


Tailgating

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: ...kinda stalking though, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, Coming Out, Concert Parking Lot AU, First Dates, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Flirting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Rutting, Stalking, Virginity, Young inexperienced sexual fumblings, awkward stuff and thangs, both boys are eighteen, but an attempt is made, is that a thing?, not really stalking, or....like attempted loss of virginity, teen-speed orgasms, well... it is now, well...not really a full blow job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:49:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7719010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl hates being at home waiting for whether or not his dad is in a hitting mood.  Since he’s within walking distance to the Lakewood Amphitheater, he has a habit of hanging out in the parking lot near the entrance to the stadium even though he never has tickets and usually hates the bands.  But at least he’s not home- he’s scoring free beers and he gets to subtly check out the eye candy.  The eye candy is dudes, although Daryl isn’t totally fully admitting that to himself yet.  Then he meets Rick, all alone, separated from his friends and without his ticket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tailgating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaroonCamaro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaroonCamaro/gifts).



> It has come to my attention that I haven’t really done much with young Rick and young Daryl. So voila. Here’s a thing. 
> 
> Beta’d by the super-amazing MaroonCamaro. She was also my consultant for all automotive related matters in this fic.
> 
> (This is just a random one-shot. My Rockstar chaptered fic will continue on it's normal posting schedule this week.)

Daryl sat on top of the weather-worn picnic table with his feet on the bench of it watching a flood of college kids flock past him on their way into the Lakewood Amphitheater. Tonight was Dave Matthews Band. Definitely not Daryl's taste in music. Hell, he didn’t even have tickets, but the sight seeing would be nice. It was 7:30. He'd already scored three free beers, two Budweiser’s that he could actually enjoy and some kind of pretentious IPA shit that he choked down cause free beer was free beer. Plus if he was sitting there drinking he didn't look as out of place as he would if he were just sitting there checking out asses. 

He probably still stood out anyway. Especially at _this_ concert. Bunch of preppy rich kids wearing shorts with button-up dress shirts and a baseball cap. Daryl was in his typical garb. Sleeveless shirt even though it was late September, ratty jeans with more holes than actual material, and a pair of black work boots that had six years of Merle on them before they were even handed down to the youngest Dixon.

Sometimes he could read judgment on faces as they walked by. But a lot of times people were already drunk or buzzed and were just having a good time. They'd be walking into that entrance with one too many beers, knowing they wouldn't be allowed to bring it in and there was Daryl. “Hey, Buddy, you want one?” they'd say. And well yeah, he did. It was free beer. All he had to do was sometimes give an occasional high five about how great Florida Georgia Line was (whoever the fuck they were) and a “Fuck Yeah” in response to a “White Stripes Rocks!” (That one was sincere).

But regardless of whether he was hanging out for the free beer or the eye candy or the occasional times he enjoyed the music he could hear from the parking lot, it was better than sitting around at home waiting to see if his dad was in the mood to beat on him or not. Luckily the Amphitheater was within reasonable walking distance because unlike the current sea of over-privileged SUV owners, Daryl didn't have wheels yet despite being eighteen. But soon. He was saving up from his job at the nearby garage, also within walking distance.

A group of guys that looked like they must have been on the same college basketball team based on their builds and the fact that they all wore blue and silver walked by. Not much to look at. Daryl had a preference for guys closer to his own height. He knew he was getting a beer when he saw the last guy in the group holding a six-pack with one unopened beer in it. In his other hand was a nearly full beer that he was working on already. Daryl watched as his eyes caught the sign over the pathway to the pavilion that said “NO alcoholic beverages past this point.”

He looked down at his lopsided sixer and over at Daryl. “Hey, Bro! Have one!”

He clumsily handed Daryl the whole six-pack. “Gotta down it fore ya head in though!”

“Thanks, man,” Daryl said with a nod.

“DMB Kicks fuckin’ ass!” the guy yelled out in Daryl’s general direction. Hard to tell exactly because his eyes were already bloodshot and unfocused from drinking. 

“Fuck yeah!” Daryl responded as he held up the beer in thanks, even though the drunk kid’s sentence may have been the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. He'd bet money that a douchebag like Dave Matthews had never kicked an ass in his entire life.

He looked down at his score and didn't recognize the label. He automatically reached into his back pocket. Sure as shit wouldn't be a twist off. He used his opener and the first sip of the Sierra Nevada made him already thirsty for a damn Budweiser. He checked his watch. The show started in thirty minutes. He'd have to suck this down quick so he could look like he needed one for the next group that walked by with one too many. Once the crowd thinned out that would be the end of the beer and he’d be left in the huge parking lot alone. Just him and the crickets listening to shitty music.

He usually left after the band was done whether he liked them or not. What the hell else did he have to do? It was closing in on 8:30 when Daryl finished his beer and tossed it into the overflowing trashcan that was about four feet from the picnic table. The crowd had already thinned. Maybe a handful of voices left rushing towards him through the parking lot. 

It was already mostly dark this time of year, the moon out and full, when Daryl noticed the guy coming towards him alone with a six pack. He squinted in the dim light from the combination of bright moon and yellowed parking lot lights and recognized the walk immediately. Must be a guy that lives nearby, too. Daryl’s seen him at a lot of concerts lately. Weird combination of them, he had noticed. Tori Amos and Nine Inch Nails in the same month. Daryl always seemed to take notice of him. He had gorgeous too-long wavy hair, the bluest eyes he'd ever seen and a pair of bowed legs that Daryl would kill to have wrapped around him. He'd seen him before with groups of friends. The blond chic. The chic with dreads. The dude that looked like he had a broken nose. The one with the red hair and the one with the mullet. And once or twice Daryl had seen him wandering around alone. Hard not to notice. Not with those looks and that body. Daryl knew he got busted staring a couple times, finally moving his gaze from the guy’s torso and realizing that those blue eyes had caught him looking. Never looked disgusted though. Just kinda had this smile. Always had this smile.

It was unusual though seeing him walking towards the entrance alone with six full beers. This guy knew the drill, he’d been here a million times. The show was already starting and he wasn't allowed to bring all that beer past the sign that Daryl was sitting right next to. And what was all that beer for anyway? Daryl tried to think over the evening. He hadn’t seen the blond one. Or the one with dreads. Or the one with the weird nose or the redhead one or the one with mullet. Daryl narrowed his eyes as ‘the one with curls’ approached, a grin like always and a flush to his skin that seemed to signify that he'd been drinking already even though his current sixer hadn't been touched. He stopped right in front of Daryl.

“Lost my friends and I think they had my ticket,” he said. He didn’t sound like he’d been drinking despite the color in his cheeks. 

Daryl gave him a nod. “Can hear pretty good from here.” He scooted over, instantly regretting it, nervous about coming off as too gay. He _was_ gay, but he hadn't really worked up to advertising it yet. Or admitting it to himself despite what his eyes did while he was waiting around for beer. He hoped he wasn’t coming across too weird or anything. Didn't want to scare the guy off. He had six beers and if he was just gonna sit here and listen, Daryl was fairly certain he’d be able to get three of them. Though he was a little more interested in the company he’d be able to have for as long as it took to drink them.

“Rick Grimes,” the guy said as he reached out a hand.

“Daryl.” Old habits die hard and he hesitated at his last name. Too many locals and kids back from high school read too much into the name, but Daryl was certain the guy hadn’t gone to his old high school, he’d never seen him other than the parking lot so he probably wouldn’t be familiar with any of his family’s law enforcement issues. “Dixon,” he finally said.

Rick sat on the picnic table right where Daryl had made room and put his feet up on the bench the same way. He twisted off the cap of a beer and handed Daryl one. Daryl murmured a thank you as Rick twisted off another for himself.

‘Twisting off’ was a good sign. Daryl looked before he took a sip. “Budweiser. Thank Christ.” He guzzled a little too eagerly out of nerves before he remembered he should go slow to prolong the visit. He’d like to be able to look at this guy a while. Maybe commit him to memory for later.

“Not a craft beer kinda guy?” Rick asked with a laugh.

“Aww, fuck that shit, man. I bet half these assholes who drink it don't even like it.” Daryl worried for a second, wondering if Rick liked it. He certainly didn't want to insult the guy, but he also didn't want to look too much like he was trying _not_ to insult the guy. (Not seeming gay was hard when you were actually gay). But Rick was just sitting there smiling in his jeans and a plain brown t-shirt. Nothing about him shouted status or ‘better than’ or craft beer.

“So you like Dave Matthews?” he asked Daryl as he took another sip.

Daryl hesitated at the answer. Should he say yes to avoid the inevitable line of questioning that would lead to why he was there? Why _was_ he there? Checking out guys? Free beer? Avoiding a potential beating? He wasn’t even sure which of those things was the primary reason anymore but he didn’t want to have to cop to any of them. None of that was anyone’s business.

“I don’t like them either,” Rick said without Daryl ever actually giving an answer.

“How'd you know I was gonna say no?”

Rick looked at him. Closely. His eyes bluer than Daryl had even realized from a distance and Rick’s head cocked like he was trying to read Daryl's mind. “You just don't seem like the Dave Matthews type.”

“You probably think they kick ass, huh?” Daryl asked drinking his beer and wondering why he was suddenly concerned about what some straight college kid stranger thought about his taste in music. Daryl’s social life involved coming to the amphitheater to look, that's it. He wasn't ever gonna have the guts to flirt or any shit like that, even if he did have this gaydar that he's heard people talking about… which he didn't. Besides. Too risky to flirt in the south even if you had the guts to do it. Or if you knew _how_ to do it. Could get your ass kicked and Daryl didn’t want to be in any unnecessary fights. Not that he couldn’t handle himself. He’d just had enough of that at home.

“Pffttt, fuck no. A douchebag like Dave Matthews probably never kicked an ass in his entire life,” Rick said.

Daryl's head whipped around to look the kid up and down again. That was word-for-word his exact thought not half an hour ago. Did he read Daryl's fucking mind? Rick just took another sip and kept his eyes up on the moon.

They sat in a nice shared silence for a few minutes as the music started from the pavilion, loud enough to hear but not too loud to cover the sound of crickets and the occasional autumn breeze rushing through the trees that surrounded the parking lot.

Daryl didn’t get it. “Then… What the hell are you doing here? You’re friends make you come?” Daryl paused. Shit. What if he gets a ‘what are you doing here’ back? He had to get on the offense for that one so he continued to babble. “I mean… like… I just come to check out the girls. Free beer and shit,” he said as he lifted the bottle as an example.

Rick smiled. It was shy and bold at the same time. “I actually didn't really come with any friends,” Rick responded, avoiding eye contact by picking at the label on his bottle.

“What?” Daryl asked confused. Is this guy lying about not having friends now? Cause Daryl knew better. “I know you got friends that come here, seen ya-”. Shit. Now he’d know Daryl had taken notice. He finished his sentence anyway hoping that would make it less awkward. “Seen ya’ll here before.”

Daryl was now officially nervous. He needed to change the topic and fast. “I live within walking distance so… I come here a lot. Free music.” He shrugged, trying to act casual.

Rick looked at him with a half grin/half glare. “Said you didn't like Dave Matthews.”

Goddamnit. This time Daryl decided for the opposite strategy and just stopped talking. They were quiet again a while. Daryl didn’t look directly but he could tell out of the corner of his eye that Rick was biting on that plump bottom lip of his.

“Want to know a secret?” Rick finally asked, eyes following the buzz of a Japanese beetle.

Daryl's beer was empty and he desperately needed something to drink. His mouth had gone completely dry with weird nerves. “Is there another beer in it if I say yes?”

Rick grinned and tossed his own empty into the trash can. “You're getting the beer and the secret no matter how you answer,” he said, twisting off two caps and handing one to Daryl. 

As Daryl took his first slug, thankful again for the brand, Rick blurted it out.

“I'm gay.”

Daryl choked on his sip and coughed to catch his breath. When he was composed he looked over and saw Rick’s eyes still up on the moon. 

“You're the first person I've ever told,” he said, dropping his eyes to his feet. 

Daryl didn't respond. He didn't get up and run away either, but he didn't respond.

“First time I've actually said it out loud,” Rick whispered to his feet.

Daryl swallowed hard. Was he dreaming? What the hell were the odds of some stranger arbitrarily ‘coming out’ to another stranger who coincidently also hadn't yet said that sentence out loud. And a guy he’d been eyeing up for months, nonetheless.

“You haven't bolted. So I guess that means you aren't a homophobe,” Rick said, finally risking a glance back over directly at Daryl. Daryl wanted desperately to look away just in case there was something to that mind reading concern from earlier but he couldn't. 

“Ain’t you got friends and family to tell that shit to?”

“I will eventually,” Rick said quietly. He looked back at his beer and started picking at the label again. “Thanks for not bolting or being disgusted. Or thinking I’m weird for talking about it.”

“Oh, I think you’re weird for talking about it,” Daryl corrected him with a grin. “But… I mean… I ain’t gonna judge man. I…” Daryl’s sentence just kind of faded out. He knew what he was. He knew now was as good a time as any to admit it to himself. The days of trying to convince himself he just looked because he wished he had a better body or someone else’s hair--that was foolish. But he had to hide it from himself as long as he could. At least until he could get out of the house.

“Feel good to get it off your chest?” Daryl asked as he bit at a thumbnail. 

Rick turned to him with that bright fucking smile. “Feels pretty good, yeah,” he said. He took a deep breath and leaned back on the table looking over the parking lot. 

Dave Matthew’s voice carried out over the night, one of his radio songs that Daryl recognized and couldn’t stand. Mushy shit. 

_Hey, my love, I came to you with  
best intentions  
You laid down and gave to me just  
what I'm seeking  
Love , you drive me to distraction_

“I hate this fucking song,” Rick murmured. “All this mushy love shit like it’s all that easy.”

Daryl flinched again at Rick’s use of the word mushy right after he was just thinking it. He was doing it. He was gonna read Daryl’s mind. Everything. “I got a secret, too,” Daryl’s mouth said before his mind could agree to it. “I'm not really here checking out the girls.” He was probably more surprised than Rick would be at the words he heard falling out of his mouth.

Rick looked over at him and watched him take a drink. He didn’t act remotely surprised. “Knew you liked Budweiser,” he said with a grin.

“How?” Daryl asked, his brows knit and not quite sure what the hell kind of conversation they were having. Didn’t he hear what Daryl was just illuding to? His stomach felt weird. Not like ‘drink til ya puke weird’, but like… like the rush of wind through leaves was tickling against his insides.

“Been paying attention.”

Daryl frowned at Rick, trying to figure out what that meant. “How much attention?”

“Enough to know already that it's not the girls you're checking out.” Rick kept his eyes on Daryl's, a soft smile on his lips. Daryl could tell the guy was nervous but he was a hell of a lot more confident than Daryl would ever be. Daryl had no experience being gay other than just knowing he probably was, knowing what he liked and what got him off. He had no experience flirting... with girls or with guys. He was a fucking Dixon. Who the hell was gonna flirt with him? But what else could this be? A guy had seen him. Watched him. Paid enough attention to know his favorite beer and the preferred sex of the asses he liked to look at. He told Daryl he was gay. 

“Are you coming on to me?” Daryl asked, his voice pitching up nervous at the end of his sentence.

“Yeah. I mean, I'm trying to. I haven't come on to anyone yet, girl or guy, so I don't know if I'm doing it right,” Rick said laughing at himself and flicking a beetle off his shoe.

“Well, I ain't never been come on to so I ain't a good judge,” Daryl said, slowly. 

Rick laughed. “But in your experience-less opinion… How am I doing?”

Daryl shrugged. His beer was empty and Rick handed him another. “I dunno. Like 8 out of 10, I guess?”

Rick kept eye contact and nodded, the smile never leaving his lips. “How’d I lose the two points?”

Daryl tried to think of something as he drank. “Ya lied about getting lost from your friends.”

“You lied about checking out girls,” Rick challenged still with that same fucking adorable smile. Daryl was fairly certain he’d been brooding or frowning during the entire conversation. He was surprised he hadn’t scared Rick off yet.

“But I didn't know I was getting come on to,” he said, his tone defensive.

Rick started on his third beer and they sat again quiet for a while. It wasn't awkward. No… it was. It was a little awkward. Just because that feeling in Daryl's stomach was weird and it was suddenly really hot for fall, even in a sleeveless. 

Daryl was zoning out, thinking about how one works up to a date or a kiss or …. Jesus. He had to stop thinking before his pants got any tighter in the crotch.

The sound of Rick's final beer hitting the trash snapped Daryl out of his thoughts. Rick stood up and dusted his pants off from sitting on the dirty picnic table. 

“Hosier is playing here next Saturday,” he said.

“Yeah. Got tickets?” Daryl asked.

“Nope,” Rick answered.

“You like them?”

“Nope,” Rick repeated.

Daryl was desperate to think of something else to say because Rick was just standing there looking fucking adorable. 

“See ya here, then?” Rick finally asked with the sweetest and most nervous smile Daryl had ever seen.

“Yeah. I'll be here.”

Rick kept wearing that smile and nodded a goodbye. 

“Thanks for the beer,” Daryl said and nodded back. He finished drinking it as he watched that bow-legged saunter walk back into the parking lot. And he wondered two things. First, how damn long was this week gonna take to pass. And second… Did he just get asked on a date?

The feeling in his belly that now reminded him more of a bunch of Japanese beetles crawling around in there, made him take a look at the beer he was drinking. Must have been that damn IPA that got him all out of sorts.

\-----------------

The week dragged on longer than Daryl even expected. It felt like somewhere between a month and a million years before the next Saturday and stupid Hosier.

Daryl had never in his life spent more time picking out clothes. And he didn't even have that much to chose from. In the end it was still a sleeves and ripped up jeans. But he went with the blue sleeveless and the jeans with more worn spots but less actual holes. He got to his picnic table at his normal time. And had his first shitty Double IPA in hand within the first twenty minutes. 

He bit at a nail between sips, nervous because Rick never said a time. Daryl scanned the crowd as he drank but this time it wasn't arbitrary ass-watching. He was on the lookout for Rick. Truth be told, it wasn’t the first time he'd been sitting on that picnic table looking for those curls and that walk. For a while he'd thought he'd figured out the guy’s taste in music and started looking specific if it was a band that fit the bill. Then he did the Tori Amos/Nine Inch Nails thing and it just got too complicated to predict him.

Daryl wondered, and not for the first time since they'd met, why Rick was paying so much attention. It was clear why Daryl was- the curls, the eyes, the walk, the smile. But why was Rick paying attention to someone who for all accounts could have been a homeless vagrant. He might as well have been holding a ‘Will agree this band kicks ass for beer’ sign all this time. He was basically a beggar.

He narrowed his eyes through the crowd trying to not look like he was looking for Rick. The Double IPA was gone and a second of two Naty Boh’s had taken it’s place by the time the crowd was starting the thin out and chanting was heard in the pavilion.

Daryl felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. All that anticipation. All that excitement. Stupid daydreaming like a damn girl about maybe getting to kiss those full lips. And all that fantasizing while he was rubbing one out. He’d done it every single night since they met, his mind filled with images from a few magazines he’d managed to get his hands on a couple years back, but instead of the gorgeous models in the pictures, he’d imagine the even more gorgeous Rick Grimes. Drinker of Budweiser. Hater of Dave Matthews. Most beautiful lips Daryl had ever laid eyes on. And now instead of a first kinda, sorta date thing. He was getting stood up. He heard the first song start and decided he’d rather be home taking his chances than sitting there listening to this mainstream hipster bullshit and feeling like he was dying a slow death inside.

“Hey.”

Daryl looked up from the focus he had on his scuffed up boots to the bowed legs and the smile and the eyes and the curls. Rick had another six of Budweiser on him and already had one opened and offered.

“Fuck you. Thought you wasn’t gonna show,” Daryl said, glowering. Christ. Is this the kind of gay he was gonna be? The over-dramatic, pouting type? 

“I know,” Rick said, his smile dropping. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Car trouble. I was sick about it but I didn’t get your number and couldn’t-”

“What’s wrong with your car?” Daryl interrupted. Fixing a car could help his fragile ‘trying not to be too gay image’. Whatever that even meant. What did Daryl know? The mere thought of actually getting to be with anyone had been so foreign until the previous Saturday that even though he was actively checking out men several times a week, he never actually thought the words gay in his head. If he never acted on it… was it even a thing? Daryl took the beer and stood. 

“Well, it’s making this super loud grinding noise. And it’s out of nowhere! It just started! I always bring it in when the service light comes in and nothing was-”

“Where is it?” Daryl interrupted again. Rick’s smile was back and Daryl could feel his own pouty frown turning into a grin. It was like the curve of Rick’s lips when he smiled was contagious or something.

“Follow me,” Rick said. Daryl wasn’t sure if he was trying to sound all seductive or if it was just accidental-like. But regardless, he didn’t hesitate to follow.

They walked through a sea of SUVs, A couple Beamers. A silver Lexus. God, Daryl wondered what this guy drove. He walked next to him and tried to be subtle about looking him over. He could smell cologne that he didn’t notice last week and Rick had a button up shirt and a pair of jeans that looked so perfect and clean they could have been ironed. Christ he probably had one of these Goddamn Escalades. Rick stopped in front of a beat-up old Chevy S10 and pointed. 

“This? This is what you drive?” Daryl asked with a laugh. 

 

“Fuck you. It was this or nothing. My uncle was getting rid of it. Got it cheap.” Rick had kind of a fake-pout thing going on that Daryl was literally getting weak in the knees over. 

“I meant… I like it, man. It’s… real.” With that, the smile was back, but Daryl realized quickly that the smile also made him weak in the knees. “Which direction was the noise coming from?” he asked. Rick walked over to the back passenger side and pointed at pretty much the whole truck.

“Somewhere over here. I pulled over because it was making such a loud fucking clanging that other drivers were like… staring at me. Then I like turned if off and thought maybe it would just go away if I had it off for a while….”

Daryl stifled a giggle. An actual giggle. “You mean like rebooting a computer?”

“Yeah!” Rick said, seeming pleased that Daryl understood.

“It ain’t a computer, man. It’s a Chevy. An ‘88 by the look of it. That ain’t really how you fix shit.” Daryl had the unfamiliar feeling of a constant smile on his face. Had he been smiling for an extended period of time? His cheeks were sore.

“Well, I was half an hour from home and half an hour from here-”

“You live an hour away and you keep coming to these shows with no ticket?” Daryl interrupted. 

“Yeah,” Rick answered shyly.

“Why, man? That’s two hours a night round trip.”

Rick took a sip of his own opened beer and shrugged his shoulders. “Same reason as you… just lookin’,” he said as he raked his eyes over Daryl from his boots up to his sorta combed hair.

Daryl shivered at the eyes on him. He didn’t have any idea how to respond to that kind of attention. He’d never had that kind of attention on him before. He pointed to the truck to try to change the conversation back. “Sooo…”

“Yeah, anyway- I didn’t have your number. So eventually… after I tried pulling over and waiting a few different times… I just drove the last half hour with the noise hoping I made it here before I broke down. It wasn’t constant the whole time, but when it _was_ clanking it was loud. I may be partially deaf in one ear now.”

Daryl held out his hand. “Keys.”

Rick handed them over as Daryl handed him his beer. “Should we pop the hood?” he asked. 

Daryl looked back at him as he was climbing into the driver’s side. “You said the noise was in the back. Why would we pop the hood?”

“I just thought like… you always pop the hood,” Rick said. Daryl thought Rick may have purposefully batted his eyelashes a few extra times to be cute.

He tried unsuccessfully to stop smiling and climbed into the driver’s side, holding up the “just a moment” finger to Rick. He turned on the ignition, backed up and braked real hard. He heard the ping right away. He pulled back up into the spot, walked to the back of the truck and picked up an out-of-place looking stone. Rick walked up behind him and Daryl handed it over. “Rock in the brake pad. I think you’ll make it home.”

“Holy shit! Are you a mechanic?”

“Well, you don’t really need to be a mechanic to know how to back up and brake, but yeah.”

Rick grinned and leaned against his truck. “That’s exactly what I’ve imagined.”

Daryl blushed and grabbed the beer back that Rick was still holding for him. “Why are you imagining what I do for a living?”

Rick blushed. “Well, I just… I needed to imagine what you were wearing when I was thinking about… um… getting you to not be wearing it.”

Daryl wished to god he was back at the picnic table so he could sit down because he was about to fall over. He put a hand on the truck to steady himself.

“Rick?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you telling me you been jackin’ off to thoughts of me in mechanics overalls?”

“No,” Rick responded flatly. 

Daryl kept looking, each of them still all nervous smiles.

“By the time I’d start, you know… the actual jacking… the overalls were off. So technically… No.” 

Rick ran his hand over the back of the truck and pulled down the tailgate, jumping up on it to sit. 

Daryl joined him and they sipped on their beers quietly for a few minutes. “Can I ask you something?” Daryl murmured.

“Yeah!” Rick said enthusiastically, clearly eager to change the topic from his masturbatory confessions.

“Why were you even like… paying attention to me in the first place to notice that I’d be a chance to get laid?” Daryl still didn’t get it. It was Georgia. Not a lot of gays out of the closet despite the year they were living in. So Daryl could understand picking up a transient for a lay if there’s nothing else around and you think he’d put out. But it had to take an awful lot of time to pick up on Daryl’s habits of who he looked at and how he looked at them.

“I… I wasn’t trying to… just find someone who was gay to … like do things with. I was looking at you cause you’re fucking hot as shit. Had no _idea_ you were batting for my team until a couple weeks ago starting to watch where you were watching and how you didn’t try to flirt with any of the girls that would talk with you.”

Daryl didn’t know how in the hell to respond to that. Hot as shit? He was in a cheap Walmart sleeveless and jeans that looked more skin-colored than blue because of all the holes. He knew he needed a haircut but he was saving up for wheels so he’d been trimming it himself and he knew it looked ratty as hell. How is that hot as shit?

Daryl looked over and Rick was smiling. That giant smile of his like he knew something Daryl didn’t. “You don’t realize how fucking good looking you are, do you?”

Daryl blushed like crazy and drank the rest of his beer. He couldn’t even remember where they put down the other four they had.

“You know when guys that look like you have no idea… that makes them even more gorgeous. Plus… I like the way you flirt.”

“I don’t flirt.”

“You flirt. It’s like this purposefully trying not to be brooding thing. I like it.”

Daryl bit on a nail. He was all nerves and buzz and energy. And he was itchy. He wanted… wanted what he’d been thinking about each night at home. How does one go about getting that, he wondered. 

“You telling me you haven’t thought about anything like that with me?” Rick challenged.

Daryl blushed. Fuck yeah he’d been thinking about things like that with him. From just kissing, to blow jobs, to full-on fucking to tying Rick up naked against one of the trees in the woods behind his house and teasing his body, sucking on nipples, licking and biting. Oh, he’s had plenty of thoughts about Rick. Rick on his knees. Daryl on his knees. He’s been through the gamut.

He didn’t answer though. Words were never his specialty. Actions weren’t really his specialty either, though. He didn’t really have a specialty. But he wanted more. Now. It was time to act. Rick liked him. He was making that abundantly clear. And his eyes were so sincere and that smile… Daryl couldn’t help but believe him. 

So he leaned over lighting fast, put a hand on Rick’s thigh and kissed him. It was more like a thunk of heads and a hard clank of teeth and both of them pulled apart with a wince. Rick giggled. “I think we need practice.” 

He was so laid back. Daryl liked that. So relaxed. So just fucking adorable. Daryl wanted to hide over such a monumental failure at a first kiss attempt, but Rick just smiled. His eyes were so bright they literally had glimmers in them. Daryl didn’t even know what a glimmer was but he was fairly certain he saw them.

Rick put a hand on Daryl's cheek, leaned in carefully and kissed Daryl, just his lips flush against Daryl's. They were warm and soft and Daryl wondered what his own felt like to Rick. Rick pulled away. He was blushing like crazy, cheeks tinged pink and his blue eyes had grown darker, more black pupil and less blue iris.

Daryl wanted it again. More. Open mouths and tongues. Hands. Did Rick? He was still grinning like an idiot so Daryl guessed the answer was yes so he leaned in, slower this time cause he can learn a lesson, and pressed his lips back to Rick’s. 

This time it was several small plucking kisses instead of just a static press of barely moving lips. Daryl put his hand back on Rick's thigh. For fuck’s sake he's an eighteen year old male and the fact that he's still a virgin and Rick probably is too is just criminal. 

He squeezed Rick's thigh and the other boy let out a gasp giving Daryl an opening, a quite literal opening, and he slid his tongue into Rick’s mouth, slow and timid. Rick moaned against Daryl’s mouth and Daryl could feel the vibrations against his tongue. He leaned in closer as Rick leaned back. Daryl followed the lead of Rick’s body as it laid back against the bed of the truck. Daryl was partially on top of him and still kissing at those sweet lips. They tasted like Budweiser and Wrigley’s spearmint gum.

“I like your mouth,” Rick said softly, their lips still brushing and plucking together. 

Daryl tried to think of something nice to say back. He assumed that’s what you did here. He pulled out of the kiss and looked down at Rick. The other boy looked up at him like he thought Daryl was the moon and the sun. Daryl could see in his eyes that he was begging for more. “I like your eyes. They’re… um… They’re blue.”

Rick giggled. “Hot as shit. Good kisser. Funny. And now romantic. Wow.”

“Shut up, man,” Daryl said with a frown.

“Make me,” Rick dared him with a raised brow.

Daryl accepted the challenged and latched onto Rick’s plump bottom lip and sucked at it then kissed his mouth again and licked into it, his body now pressed against Rick’s, one hand in those fucking beautiful curls and one sliding up and down those buttons.

“You can unbutton them,” Rick said as they kissed. The kisses were sloppy and awkward, but Daryl couldn’t get enough. The taste of Rick on his tongue, the smell of that cologne that was put on specifically for him, the sound of Rick’s breaths. How much was he willing to do? Cause Daryl was starting to worry that he’d come in his own pants and then have to walk all the way home in the mess of it. 

“You _want_ me to unbutton them?” Daryl asked, making sure he was getting a green light. Hell, he was still waiting to wake up from a dream or to find out it was all a joke to make fun of him or something. 

“Yes,” Rick whimpered into Daryl’s mouth as they kissed. “Please.”

Daryl fumbled with shaky hands to get the first one undone. He'd never owned a new shirt that had button holes that weren’t worn out and barely holding the buttons. And the ones he had he rarely wore. How do people have the patience for all this? 

He was so distracted with Rick's roaming hands and desperate lips that Daryl wondered if it would be day break by the time Rick's shirt was off. Finally, three buttons down, Rick's wandering hands landed on Daryl's ass and suddenly urgency was more important than buttons. Daryl ripped Rick’s shirt open, busting buttons apart, and then pulled his lips away and looked down at the boy below him.

“Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry. I… Uhhh…” Daryl suddenly forgot how to make words so he just stopped. Rick's lips were kiss-swollen, his curls all a wild mess, his eyes blown wide, his shirt opened revealing his pale chest covered in fine hairs, his tight stomach.

“Holy shit,” Rick mumbled, then leaned up quickly and kissed Daryl hard and needy, lips like the frantic arms of a drowning man in a tumultuous sea. Daryl felt him pulling at his ratty sleeveless so he broke the kiss and pulled it off himself. He tossed it behind him with such force that it was most likely lying somewhere in the dirt half a mile away from the truck.

They came back together, bare chest against bare chest, needy mouth against needy mouth. Daryl heard himself moan at the feel of it, someone else's skin against his own. It was indescribable. It was warmth and excitement and there was a sudden oneness to them that Daryl couldn't put into words. Rick rolled them over so he was on top but Daryl felt nervous being trapped like that. His only experience with touch was the kind you want to get away from. So he rolled them back so he was on top where he was more comfortable. Rick must not have minded based on the gasps and the “fuck” that fell from his lips in a delirious whisper.

Daryl could feel Rick hard under his jeans. They both were, and Daryl was now all the way on top so the bulges in their jeans lined up against each other. Daryl started to rock against the boy below him, his cock straining in his own pants, desperate for release.

Rick suddenly cried out. It wasn't a sad cry or a stop cry. It was an OhMyFuckingGodDon’tStop cry. He started bucking up against Daryl and finally gasped and grabbed tight to Daryl's ass as he, from what Daryl could gather, came in his pants.

“Stop. Stop,” Rick whimpered when Daryl continued to rock into him. Daryl rolled away, suddenly aware that he was rutting against him while he was over-sensitized from the orgasm. 

“Fuck. I'm so sorry, Daryl,” Rick pouted, “I can't believe I just… Fuck.” Rick’s features had gone from bliss to worry in a land speed record.

“S’ok, man. Wasn't that the point?” Daryl grinned, half proud to have been the reason for that orgasm and half focused on what to do about the swollen cock in his own pants.

“No. No… It's not ok.” Rick sat up and put his hands to the button and zipper of Daryl's jeans.

“Uh... umm.. Ok,” Daryl mumbled as he lifted his ass off the bed of the truck so Rick could peel them off his body. 

Rick looked up at him. “That felt so good not doing it alone,” he laughed nervously.

Rick got Daryl's pants down as far as his boots and instead of fighting with shoes, Rick straddled Daryl's legs and wrapped his hand around Daryl’s dick.

Daryl just stared, trying not to blink, pushing away the part of him that didn't like that trapped feeling, his ankles being bound together from the pushed-down jeans.

He didn't need to be afraid. Rick wasn't going to hurt him. He was going to do the opposite. Rick ran a thumb over the tip of Daryl's cock and pulled the pre-come down as he started to stroke. 

Holy shit. Daryl was naked with a hand on his dick that was not his own. It was a cool night but his skin was flushed and warm. He was going to explode all over the fucking place. He felt his balls draw up and he was suddenly past the point of no return.

“Rick, I'm-”

Before he could finish, the boy leaned down and sucked Daryl's whole length into his warm, wet mouth. Daryl came instantly and Rick coughed from the suddenness of a mouth full of Daryl. Rick sat back up, still straddled above him.

Daryl watched wide-eyed, his mouth dry and hanging open, as Rick composed himself then ran his tongue over the glob of thick white come that was dripping down his bottom lip.

“What's it taste like?” Daryl asked.

Rick smiled. “Haven't you ever tasted yourself before?” he asked.

“No, perve,” Daryl answered with a smile that he was trying to make a frown. It wasn't an insult. Daryl liked the idea of some perviness to such a sweet innocent looking kid.

“Not even curious? I have. You taste better. Salty and… like raw. Like the ocean and dirt.”

“I taste like dirt? That’s not very romantic,” Daryl teased as he reached down and started pulling his pants back up. He was feeling way too bare with Rick still wearing jeans with his shirt, though unbuttoned, still on.

“Like I mean earthy. Like… I dunno.” Rick sat against the opposite side of the truck watching Daryl wiggle back into his pants. Once he was in them, he looked around for his shirt and as he expected it wasn’t anywhere in the truck. 

“Shit,” Daryl muttered. 

“What’s the matter? Do you regret this?” Rick asked panicked.

“No, man,” Daryl laughed. “I just… I don’t know where my shirt got to.”

Rick looked over the side of the truck and pointed. “You can go get it. Promise I won’t stare at your ass.”

He was being playful. It was cute. But Daryl’s light mood was suddenly overcast. It was dark out but was it dark enough to scramble off the tailgate quickly enough that Rick wouldn’t notice his scars? He’s never thought about having to be self conscious about them before. Kinda thought he’d be a virgin forever so he hadn’t really worried. But now… he didn’t want Rick to… think he wasn’t strong enough to protect himself. He could protect himself better now. He could get in a few defensive licks. Most of the worst scars were from when he was much younger. 

“Daryl? You ok?” Rick asked, snapping him out of his own mind. He’d have to get the shirt eventually. Sure as shit can’t walk home without it. All these people from the show driving past with headlights putting him on display.

“Kinda thought maybe you could get it for me. So I could see your ass,” Daryl said pressing his back subconsciously against the side of the truck.

Rick cocked his head doing that mind reading thing. “What’s the matter? Something’s wrong. I can tell.”

Daryl panicked. Rick was right. He could sense Daryl’s mood and mannerisms change. It was already clear how good Rick was at paying attention to Daryl’s every move. He’d been paying attention for weeks...months.

“I’m just uhhh.. Y’know. Worried you ain’t ever gonna call or some shit like that,” Daryl babbled. Christ it sounded gay. But that was better than the truth. Not that the worrying about calling wasn’t true too, actually.

Rick stood up, hopped off the tailgate and came back with Daryl’s shirt and the rest of the six-pack he’d left on the ground. He tossed the shirt to Daryl, who murmured a “thanks” as he put it on self consciously. 

Rick opened a beer and handed it to Daryl then opened his own. “One of them kinda wraps up over your shoulder,” he said softly.

Daryl flicked his eyes up. “What?”

“The scars you don’t want me to see. I wouldn't mention it, but I want to see you again and if that’s part of your story and it’s gonna make you too nervous to get together again then we should probably just get it out of the way now.”

Daryl didn’t talk. He just kept his eyes on Rick’s eyes. He CAN read minds. Goddamnit. What else did he know. Can he read the kinky stuff? Cause Daryl has been having a LOT of ideas about what to do with him. He didn’t want to talk about the scars. So he didn’t. He drank and he looked at Rick without words.

“Is that why you come here? To get away from home?” Rick asked cautiously.

“Why do you care?” Daryl asked glaring now.

“Because. I told you. I wasn’t just looked to fuck someone. Not that we even… ummm got to that point,” Rick laughed self consciously. “I want to… I mean… don’t you want to see each other again?” Rick looked nervous at the answer, his brow crinkled.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders even though the answer was that he practically wanted to tie Rick up and keep him forever.

“I’m just the first gay person you ever met, man,” Daryl said. He wasn’t gonna get all Taylor Swift heartbroken over this. He just met the damn kid a week ago. So he was sweet and funny and cute and so nice to Daryl. No one has ever been this nice to him. But so what. He’d live if Rick didn’t want the trouble.

“You aren't the first gay person I've met. Christ, one of my best friends, Eugene, just came out a few months ago.” 

“Well, why you still bitching about not ever gettin’ any and not coming out of the closet?”

“He has a mullet, dude. And he's obnoxious. Full of himself. If I came out he’d be all over me. I’m sure of it.”

“Now who’s full of themselves?” Daryl said. “Well, don’t think I’m all over you. I’d be fine if you and all your college buddies just moved on.”

Rick tilted his head. “I’m not in college. Senior in High School, but I’m going to the policy academy next year. I’m gonna be a detective.”

Daryl fought his smile. “Well, you’re perceptive. Makes sense I guess. But your drinking under aged, officer,” he chidded. 

“Well, I’m not in the academy _yet_.”

They were quiet again for a moment as _Take Me To Church_ started, probably the encore. 

“Do you like Beck?” Rick asked out of nowhere.

“Yeah, actually. He’s coming next weekend,” Daryl said at the same time that Rick said “He’s coming next weekend.”

“Wanna like… come back and listen with me? I know it’s a long drive but…” Daryl’s voice faded out, nervous. They both looked towards the pavilion as the crowds were starting to head back into the parking lot. “You better get going before the traffic gets bad,” Daryl said. He stood up and jumped off the back of the truck. Rick followed him. 

“Let me drive you home,” he offered reaching out to hold Daryl’s hand for apparently no particular reason other than to keep him in place long enough to answer.

Daryl shook his head. “Nah. I like to walk.” There was no way he was going to show a boy he likes the shithole trailer he lives in. No way. “Will you maybe come back next week?” Daryl asked. He felt pathetic like he was practically begging now. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted to see Rick again so damn bad. He wasn’t even gone yet and Daryl missed the sight and feel of him. 

Rick reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Daryl’s heart sunk. Was he gonna throw him a few bucks out of pity? What the fuck!? Daryl’s defenses got up and he pulled his hand away from Rick’s.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Rick looked up, clearly surprised at Daryl’s tone. He had two concert tickets in his hand. He took one and handed it to Daryl. “I thought maybe you’d like Beck. Been paying attention to what music makes you bob your head,” Rick grinned.

Daryl stood looking at the ticket then back up at Rick. “You’d make a good detective. Or like… stalker.” 

Rick laughed and held the ticket out further. “I was hoping we could make it like an actual date this time.”

“Ok. Thanks,” Daryl said as he took it and looked at it. “Where’d you get the extra ticket?”

“I bought it. I bought these for us. For like a… date.”

Daryl pulled an old flip phone out of his pocket. “What’s your phone number? I’ll text you so you have mine. If you run out of gas or or it rains and you can’t remember how to work the wipers, call me.”

Rick grinned. “I like the way you flirt.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Now- the real reason I wrote this was to get you to this point so I could make a fic rec! Somehow I never realized that MaroonCamaro had an HSAU out there! I read it the other day and OMG- it is SO good. I feel it is my duty to spread the word about it because it should be required reading for all Rickyl enthusiasts. I recommend everyone proceed immediately to this fic and enjoy---> [ Lost in the Woods ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4443569?view_adult=true)
> 
> (Final note: In the interest of full disclosure- I actually like Dave Matthews and Hosier.)


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